


The Sciamachy

by Tulak_Hord



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: AU Phantom Menace, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Gen, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Master Palpatine is a terror and so is Obi-Wan, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Palpatine is Obi-Wan's master, Powerful Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Dark Side of the Force, The Disaster Lineage strikes again, The Sith Empire, Where is Yoda?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26712091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tulak_Hord/pseuds/Tulak_Hord
Summary: 'Sciamachy'- [Skia; makhia] To fight Shadows.The prologue of an AU to The Phantom Menace, in which Obi-Wan was trained by Jedi Master Sheev Palpatine.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Yoda, Dooku & Sheev Palpatine, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Mace Windu, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Sheev Palpatine, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Sheev Palpatine & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 40
Kudos: 99





	1. To Promise Opportunity

**Prologue- To Promise Opportunity**

Opportunism- a philosophy frowned upon entirely by the Jedi Order, and prevalent entirely too much within its ranks.

The Apprentices’ Tournament was a prestigious occasion. Though intended officially for friendly competition to ostensibly determine where best a prospective Jedi’s talent fell, it was given its weight and driven entirely by the opportunism of the initiates who took part.

Senior Initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi was no different. Restrained himself from seeking a path for himself though he had, on the advice of a great many Masters, it was opportunism that drove him to excel in the tournament. It was opportunism stoked to flame at the chance of being chosen by a Jedi Master who would teach him, the chance to be a Padawan himself that had brought him to victory.

However much his once-rival Bruck Chun had once bullied him, he could hardly be called a formidable opponent. Obi-Wan had outclassed him all aspects, defeating him soundly and thoroughly, not even allowing him a foothold in the duel. His victory had been absolute.

And it was typical to expect victors jubilant, returning with an effect of an odd sort of gait that only young teenagers who did not quite manage to swagger could produce, proud (though they would hide it at being selected by a Knight or a Master.

How unfortunate, then, that Obi-Wan Kenobi could expect nothing of the sort, despite his victory.

_Nobody wanted him._

Never mind that he’d _won,_ he’d been disqualified from competing further due to his ‘lack of restraint’.

The initiate forced down his surge of anger, frustrated at both the Jedi and himself- it was a life of contradictions he lived in, and not one simply coped with. How was he supposed to _win_ and be selected if he drew back during a duel, but how was he supposed to get selected if him winning meant a disqualification?

It was quite unfair, all of it. Never mind that he’d won the twelve-and-under push-feather tournament as well, despite not being half as gifted as some of his peers. He felt too much, and too keenly at that. Why, the only Jedi who had ever shown any interest in training him had been the grim Weapons Master, Anoon Bondara, and he happened to be the only one indisposed as he was supposed to be teaching hundreds of initiates of his age.

Sometimes Knight Cin Drallig would come to see him, but Bondara’s protégé did not believe himself ready to make the commitment to Masterhood. And Drallig aside, _nobody_ wanted him.

The initiate, small for his age, forced himself to take a number of deep breaths. _No, this shan’t do,_ he told himself.

 _“This is precisely why you shall not be chosen, you fool. You have the audacity to think it is unfair, while older Masters who are clearly greater and wiser than you think differently. Arrogant of you to assume you could know_ anything.”

He chastised himself harshly as ever, plodding his way back to his quarters in the initiates’ dormitory.

Did great Jedi such as Master Windu become renowned as they are due to their temerity? No, it was their patience. And that is why, perhaps, he privately maintained that he should never be a Jedi. 

And yet- it never was his intent to be a ‘great’ Jedi. He merely wanted to be a Knight- and that too only because he knew that was how he could _help._ He wished to be a Jedi so that he knew he was being some use, that he worked steadily as ever to make the Republic a better place- if only in the simple way that he knew.

He only wished to do the task that was given to him, to the best of his ability- but he needed a task. A goal to which he could drive himself. Otherwise, left directionless and wandering, he shuddered to think where he might be swept off to.

_“And that is why you can’t be a Jedi. You’ve always needed an anchor, whereas if you were to be a Knight, you wouldn’t need one. You’d have your own strength. Perhaps it’s best that you’re destined to the Agricorps.”_

His name-day came in two weeks, and he would age out. He could see, in his dreams sometimes, the large, looming ship that would convey him to Bandomeer, where he would spend the rest of his days as a farmer.

A sniffle came to him, and choking harshly on his breath, he forced it back. He needed to present himself with dignity, if nothing else. It would not do to be vulnerable.

 _Sometimes you wish to let it out, don’t you? You don’t have control. You were_ never _going to be a Jedi._

“Careful, my boy. Your thoughts betray you.”

Obi-Wan whirled around, utterly panicked. He could trace no source to the voice. He turned around this way and that, and yet sensed no presence in the Force.

He had come to the hall before the dormitory, with four shadowy corners as available hiding spaces. Going to each one, he surveyed them all- and nothing.

What was more was that he had _heard_ the voice before- heard it when he was a crècheling, suffering from nightmares which turned to visions of the unifying Force. He recalled that the crèchemasters had called in somebody for aid, but he could never quite put the face of whoever had come.

“A Force Cloak is a powerful tool, I grant you. With its employ, you may ambush one unsuspecting while eliminating the chances of falling into a trap yourself.”

Drawing himself from his panic, he clamped down hard on his thoughts. If he screamed- there was nobody who would listen. Nobody had ever listened.

 _“Oh, but_ I _will, my boy.”_

 _“My boy”._ Something about the manner in which the endearment was spoken sent a chill down his spine.

Yet for now- he tired of this. No Jedi Master would ever sneak up on him like this and choose not to reveal themselves- it was either a prank, or perhaps his real doom.

Nothing he could do would avail him- every time he thought of something else, something superficial, he found his attention drawn to his true cares and despite his will at that. He could not, for the life of him, stop the intrusion into his mind- but he could do something.

 ** _“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”_** he thought with conviction, and nearly startled when the command was _obeyed._

The other’s claws within his mind retreated, but he had no time for relief- not when he heard the faint chuckle.

 _No, no._ It couldn’t quite be called a chuckle- more of a _cackle,_ really.

“Ah, so you do possess some conviction in you, and not an inconsiderable store of bravery. Well done, Obi-Wan.”

 _“How do you know my name?”_ he spoke out loud, drawing another chuckle.

“My dear boy, I _despise_ ignorance. It is therefore a mission of sorts for me to _know_ of matters- but what use is this knowledge about my character, I ask you, if you don’t know who I am?”

 _Show yourself,_ was the first thought that came to his mind, but he did not say it because it would be futile. He thought he felt an odd sort of approval in the air for that, but he couldn’t be sure.

“I… _do_ remember something of your voice. I’ve heard it before, in the crèche, I believe. You were… you were _there,_ weren’t you?”

“Good, Obi-Wan, Good!” said the other, and Obi-Wan distinctly felt the voice come from behind him. He took care, this time, to not whirl around. If the sense of approval he had felt at his restraint had truly come from his phantom visitor, he thought a certain degree of reserve and sophistication would be appreciated.

He turned around slowly, then, taking a few steps forward first. And then, he could not believe his eyes.

 _“_ You’re… you’re _Master Sheev Palpatine.”_ said the initiate, with a dumbstruck sort of awe.

“Come now, there is no need for such awe and fear, my boy. I am only my little old self, having come to meet my younger friends in a visit. What, if I may ask, is so startling about that matter?” said the auburn-haired Jedi Master, gently lowering his plum hood with the deliberate grace that characterised his every movement.

“Forgive me, Master… but you… here… in the, ah, moridiate’s itinerary, eh, dormiates’ initiatory… _sorry.”_

_He was an utter, utter fool._

Jedi Master Sheev Palpatine, once the padawan of Grand Master Dooku himself. Knighted at seventeen for saving an entire _planet,_ becoming eventually the youngest to be elevated to Masterhood in the past millennium. Master of all forms of Lightsaber combat, and possessing a knowledge of the Force which outranked those of perhaps the entire High Council including even Dooku.

 _And,_ as Obi-Wan privately thought, _the finest Jedi to serve the Order._

Here was the Master he had looked up to for the longest time- here he was, no longer larger than life as he had been in Obi-Wan’s thoughts, and what did he do? He humiliated himself.

_How typical._

“Would you mind helping me in a matter that perplexes me, Obi-Wan? I would greatly appreciate any aid.”

_What?_

He- he- help? Of course! Help!

“Gladly, Master!” he nearly squeaked, then stood at attention.

“You possess anger, do you not?”

 _Oh._ Of course. Obi-Wan deflated a bit. _So this is how my dreams end._

“There is no need for that dolorous expression, my boy. Let me tell you, it is a rare gift indeed. I possess it as well- and I put it to good use, or I would not be myself. It gives you focus, makes you stronger. What puzzles me is this- why don’t you _channel_ it? Why do you direct it always at yourself, when there is an entire world that could do with your… _aid?_ ”

Obi-Wan hung onto every word, despite his niggling doubt for some reason, this lecture was sounding nothing at all like what he would expect from a Jedi Master…

_Some negligible reason, I’m sure. Be quiet. Master Palpatine is speaking._

“You have been taught that fear leads to anger, and that anger leads to hate- but I say, this is false. Fear gives moderation to anger, and hate can be dismissed. You have anger, but not hate- as I do. Hat eblinds you- but anger does not. Quite the opposite, in fact- so why don’t you _use_ it?”

“I- I haven’t been taught any such technique, Master Palpatine.” said Obi-Wan, fumbling a bit.

“Which is why I have always maintained that this order lets the finest talent slip from between their fingers, and insufferably consistently at that. But that is why _I_ am here, am I not, my boy?” said the Jedi Master, raising an eyebrow.

He had not done anything to impress Master Palpatine yet, and so this confused him. Who would simply… extend such an offer of aid?

“Forgive me, master, but I should like to know. Why couldn’t I recall you from when you supposedly visited me in the crèche?”

“Ah.” said Palpatine, putting a finger to his chin, speaking almost fondly. “I couldn’t have been as sure then as I was now- but you possess a powerful connection to the Unifying Force, Obi-Wan. Those visions you had- why, in that, we are one of a kind. Observing your progress has only cemented this belief.”

 _“Observing?_ For what?” Obi-Wan blurted out before he could help himself, almost biting his tongue.

“No, _no,_ don’t do that, my boy. I appreciate a bit of courage.” said Master Palpatine, in that odd blasé manner that put him instantly at ease, for some reason. “I am glad to see that you have grown bold. No, no- you heard me quite well. Few Jedi possess the wisdom and faith you do at this age.”

“Then… you don’t mind me asking questions? Any questions?” Obi-Wan asked, despite himself.

“Ah, but on the contrary, I welcome them. After all, it is not my choice on whether you can or cannot ask- that is yours. My choice is whether or not to answer them.” said the Jedi Master.

Obi-Wan still looked doubtful, but his pestering and certain slip-ups in etiquette seemed to pelase Palpatine for some reason that only the Master himself could know.

He thought of what he _really_ wished to ask, and almost blanched at the thought.

“It is a most useful gift of the Force, to sense another’s thoughts. Most definitely quite useful when the word of mouth isn’t entirely adequate for communication.” said Master Palpatine, almost absently. Obi-Wan cursed.

“Well, Master, if you’ve already heard it, I can’t see why I should hide it. Why are you _really_ here? A great Jedi Master such as yourself- of Grand Master Dooku’s lineage, no less- you surely have better places to be than the initiates’ dormitory?”

Master Palpatine gave a smile that could almost be called _affectionate,_ if it wasn’t chilling in a way. It gave the sense that he knew something that Obi-Wan did not, and loath as he was to admit it, the initiate was scared of him.

“You have the potential to be a great Jedi, Obi-Wan. I should know, as I have watched your career with great interest.”

Obi-Wan turned his head down.

“I- I’m sorry, master. I assumed you knew. I’ll age out in two weeks, and go to Bandomeer. No Master will accept me.” he said, turning slightly away.

Master Palpatine’s expression did no change in the slightest.

“Well, that is hardly a problem without an easy solution. We’ll solve that matter soon enough, if you’d care to wait. For now, I think we have a confirmation appointment with the Council that we must attend, Padawan Kenobi.”

 _What the_ \- Council? Padawan Kenobi?!

_Wait a minute, how did this happen?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Evil Sith Cackling_**
> 
> I enjoyed writing this perhaps a little too much. As I have never seen an AU of this sort, I thought it fitting to embark upon this journey. If you are Good Sheevists as I am and it was to your liking, I would appreciate it if a comment or two were left. They warm my evil, sithly bones. 
> 
> Any guesses as to what became of Yoda?


	2. To Embark upon a Quest

**To Embark upon a Quest**

“I’m sorry, Knight Kenobi. I did all I could.” said a voice that would normally be associated with sternness and command; a voice he knew better than that yet not well at all.

There was once a time when nothing would have pleased or excited him as much as the chance to embark on a mission with the legendary Jedi Master Sheev Palpatine.

Ten years of the glorified torture that passed for ‘training’ under the very same Master left him a different man- one broken and remade, and one who _hated_ as no Jedi should.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, lowered his brow in an expression of feigned pensiveness that he had picked up nearly directly from Master Palpatine, making a show of pondering a question where it had truly come to his mind almost immediately.

“Master Palpatine? I have known him for ten years, Master Windu…” _(Ten tortuous, miserable years,_ he added mentally), “And during none of those ten has he ever asked for aid from any Jedi. Indeed, he treats his work as a challenge, and takes it as a personal insult if anybody even offers to lend a hand.”

Mace Windu’s brow furrowed. He’d lost count of how many times one Padawan Kenobi, still just a _child,_ had come running to him with tears in his eyes from Sheev Palpatine’s blatant manipulation and brutality- and yet, none of those times had Obi-Wan told him what the matter truly was.

It seemed as if he was too afraid to speak sometimes, and on others he’d stoically keep his mouth shut thinking it made him look weak. It hadn’t been Mace’s place to ask, back then, and it certainly wasn’t his now- but he had always known it was a product of Palpatine’s manipulation. And so they were ‘Knight Kenobi’ and ‘Master Windu’ respectively, instead of ‘Obi-Wan’ and ‘Mace’ as they should have been.

“Well, you know him better than I do or would care to, and so you must know how he is. _‘Call it a fit of sentimentality, but I should dearly like to be witness to my padawan’s prowess,’_ he said in that honey-dripping voice of his.”

Nowhere else in the Jedi Order would one see such blatant lack of regard for a Jedi Master, let alone one as great as Master Palpatine- none save those who knew him behind his thousand façades.

The Jedi Master had always been distant and kept everyone at arm’s length, though it would not seem so. He would attend gatherings, bring the most thoughtful presents (though Jedi were disallowed possessions), and would always be ready to lend a helpful ear and offer advice without judgment.

Once, perhaps, Mace had respected the man, perhaps even idolised him as he grew to become Master of the Order. Then he had witnessed the _politics._

The Jedi Council was far too enamoured of him, and admired him nearly as much as his perfidious friends in the Senate did. Palpatine, hero of the Republic, could do no wrong. _How noble of him,_ they would say, after he refused a seat on the Council purely because he said he would be more effective as a field master.

He had proved it as well, single-handedly resolving the Mandalorian Civil War, the Melida/Daan Crisis, and so on. He had ended the Stark Hyperspace War before it could begin.

On a covert green light from Grand Master Dooku, he had made his way stealthily to the world of Yinchorr and taken the entire Yinchorri Council captive, thus defeating their savage people alone.

And then, one inconspicuous day, a crying, hurting padawan had come to his door and simply _sat,_ red-faced, a number of _burn-marks_ across his wrist and chest. The fleah seemed charred, and hadn't cauterised as a saber wound should. He hadn’t told Mace what had happened then, and he never did, though the Vaapad Master would learn of it later.

He’d dared to call his master _‘Sheev’._

Violence against padawans was strictly against the Jedi Code- but as long as Grand Master Dooku led them, Palpatine would go nowhere. He let his old padawan get away with entirely too much, as Mace knew, and if the issue would ever be thought of, he knew he’d stand no chance against Dooku’s politics.

Knight Kenobi scoffed. “Of course he did.” he said coldly, crossing his arms in a gesture that reeked so much of Palpatine himself that Mace had to fight his frown.

It was really a shame Vaapad was ineffective against the man. Master Windu had honed his skills to the extent that he could defeat Dooku himself in a duel and handily at that (come to think of it, that was about the time the Grand Master began refusing to teach or spar and came only to meet with the council to weave his politics), but he could never defeat Master Palpatine.

Palpatine, possibly the most powerful Jedi in the Order, who ran circles around him and fed him no darkness to use against him, even though Mace could sense it oozing off him on any other occasion.

“As Master of the Order, I’d throw him out of this order if I was able. If by any chance Dooku were to disappear for a few days…” he said, grumbling.

“I doubt it, Master Windu. My old Master has made himself far too useful to the Jedi Order, as I have seen. Trust me when I say no one will agree, smile at you though they might. And even if we did, the Senators are completely under his thumb. Why, I’d wager the Jedi would be branded traitors to the Republic if we so much as raised a hand against him!” said Obi-Wan, with his usual candour and dark humour.

“I wouldn’t bet against that. Perhaps you could one day take up politics to topple that man. After all, he taught you himself.”

“Oh, I fear I shan’t ever be brave enough for that.” he said, and it reeked of a sardonic disdain that no Jedi should ever have.

Mace decided to dismiss it now, as he would be a hypocrite if he didn’t admit to having the same sentiments. After all, Palpatine’s padawan was one of the strongest Knights in the Order, surpassing even some Masters at his age of twenty-five. He could do with a bit of leniency after the years of torment that had taken him to these heights.

Had he any hair, he’d have scratched it. He was scheduled to attend another meeting with Dooku and the others, in which he was sure Dooku would lead the Council around with his endless rigmaroles and procedures and pass off the important points only when everyone was too tired to argue against him, manipulating events to his liking.

Even Obi-Wan, noble as he was, was worthy of wariness in Mace’s eyes. The way he talked, the way he carried himself- the way he displayed his disdain for the Room of a Thousand Fountains which he had once loved ( _Menagerie of Pathetic Lifeforms, he’d say)-_ there was simply too much of Palpatine in him.

No matter how much he professed to dislike Sheev Palpatine, Obi-Wan would always remain Palpatine’s padawan and his legacy.

And so the Master of the Order exercised a friendly voice with the Knight, tried to convince him that he meant well and that they were allies. And yet, in his heart of hearts, he did not trust him at all.

Obi-Wan had learned too much from Palpatine, and imbibed too many of his teachings. He only wished it would not come to bite them all in the end.

* * *

“Ah, there you are, Obi-Wan, my dear boy. I was beginning to think I might have forgotten my invitation.” said a smiling Master Palpatine, raising his arms as if to embrace him.

 _‘Dear boy’. Save your endearments as only evil comes of them,_ thought Obi-Wan, and it still took all of his monumental self-control to not stand at Palpatine’s side and bow like the padawan he had once been.

They were now unbound; a master and a Knight. And yet Obi-Wan felt as if he should offer supplication, as there could be no doubt he was the inferior. This had been drilled into his mind by his master, who had been very clear about the hierarchy of power and deference.

Only his anger and his distaste for Palpatine kept him from it. It was with shame that he realised how Palpatine had been the one to teach him that, how to harness his anger.

Nearly all his strength had come from Palpatine’s teachings, and he would acknowledge him for his merits as a master. It was merely that he knew of Palpatine’s true, sadistic self and had sene it unleashed. Like the Jedi Order, he would bear it, as long as Palpatine continued to serve the Republic.

“I had not expected a personal request, Master.” said Obi-Wan, knowing that it would eat at his intestines to reply with a pleasantry. Palpatine would see through any false cordiality anyways. He saw through _everything._

“Ah, indeed not- but as ever, you remain blind to some of your own merits. It is merely that I could think of no one better when Chancellor Valorum contacted me with a most personal request and asked a favour of the highest degree. There is no one I should have as a confidant apart from the man whom I raised, is it not?” he mocked.

 _‘You didn’t raise me, you tore me down’_ thought Obi-Wan. From what he could see, Palpatine had sensed it, and smiled. _‘But you also gave me the strength to build myself back up, so I shall tolerate you while I must.’_ he added, at which Palpatine nodded sagely.

Theirs was a relationship of cold, perfect understanding, uncoloured by personal feelings. Both knew exactly how much they could trust the other, and both knew that when faced with a problem, they would likely choose the same alternative.

And yet, Obi-Wan could not shake the feeling that Master Palpatine _knew_ him in a way no other could, and that his master knew much, much more about Obi-Wan than he ever would about Palpatine.

“Then who am I to refuse? Let us away, and end whatever menace we must face, Master.”

“Wise counsel, my apprentice.”

Obi-Wan ignited his green lightsaber and raised it in a salute; Master Palpatine smirked slightly and drew his brilliant yellow blade, doing the same. Together, Master and Apprentice walked to their shuttle, one despising the other and the other delighting in it.

“Nute Gunray and the Trade Federation again, I suspect?” said Obi-Wan, in that cool, efficient manner that always characterised their missions together.

“Ah, but you seem to be behind on the times, my apprentice. I seem to recall personally decimating their operations on Cato Neimoidia. No, I am afraid our opponents are far more deadly. The troublemakers for this time are Hego Damask and his Banking Clan.”

 _That_ shocked him.

“Damask? Your friend? From what I could gather, you were rather in agreement with him every time you met for a game of Shah-Tezh.”

“Tsk, tsk. You do remember what I say about friends, do you not?”

“Keep friends close and enemies closer, so that one may see where the lines blur.”

“Precisely, my apprentice.”

* * *

“Hego, ma bugi. Ka cheesa crispa Watto?” asked the slobbering Hutt.

The Sith Lord Darth Plagueis sat across from the hologram, the epitome of calm.

“He holds something of value to the Sith Empire. An asset for which I can promise great reward. The slaves he kept- a mother and a child- I bid you, treat them well and have them fed. I shall have them… _collected…_ as soon as I am able.”

Jabba bobbed his head up and down, while Plagueis let his hatred fester within him, maintaining his outward placidity. When he had his prize, he would skin the Hutt from his hide and use it for his experiments. Perhaps his mastery of the esoteric arts would reveal why Hutts were immune to Force suggestions at last.

<< _Why would a mother and a child be so important to the Right Hand of the Emperor? >> _Jabba said, and Plagueis pressed his fingers together in a calculating gesture.

“One may ask as well why credits are so important to the Hutts- and yet we receive what we want as you do. We do not wish any… interference… in the process of procuring our mutual profit, do we?” he asked mildly, knowing fully that Jabba was well-acquainted with his mastery of the Dark Side.

<< _You speak truly as ever, Magister. >> _the Hutt conceded. _< < They shall be taken care of.>>_

“Then that will be all.” said Plagueis, before another voice, this one mechanical, chimed in.

**“Lords Maul and Savage are at the main gate, Magister Damask. They say they are here to announce their Master. Should they be let in?”**

Plagueis let a crease line his forehead, looking at Jabba again. The Hutt looked expectant for him to close the transmission, not doing so himself as that would be exceedingly unwise.

“There is another favour I should like to ask. Should a tall, bearded man called ‘Jinn’ and his two Zabrak apprentices appear at any point to take the boy, refuse him, whether or not he claims to serve the Emperor. Let all of your mercenaries be slaughtered if you must to delay him; if necessary, I shall reimburse you thrice over.”

Jabba appeared to consider his options, at which the Sith Lord used his vast power to exert a slight pressure on the sides of his grotesque throat from his own desk, reminding him of the nature and power of his benefactor.

<< _Jinn? Consider it done, Magister! >>_ said Jabba, and thus assured, Plagueis ended the transmission.

“They may be let in.” said the Dark Lord to the interface, after which three sets of angry footfalls could be heard through the complex.

 _“Fool”_ he thought. Jinn was a moron who believed in the living Force over the Cosmic, and his Zabrak lackeys were nothing but brutes. There could be no question that Plagueis could annihilate all three with mere thoughts.

And yet, Jinn's loyalty to the Emperor and the latter’s inexplicable favour posed a major threat to his plans. He could not risk slaying them himself. His betrayal of the Sith Emperor would need to be executed carefully, if he was to stand any chance against the ancient being.

Jinn was a problem- and so Jinn would be eliminated. Plagueis smiled.

He knew _just_ the Jedi Master the Republic would send to negotiate with the crisis on Naboo he had himself engineered- perhaps misleading the unnecessarily loyal Lord Jinn a touch would have his problems resolve themselves?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to know your estimate of how many hugs Obi-Wan should receive for, ah... research purposes. Sadly, it appears that his only friend in the Order is the staunchly anti-hug Mace Windu, as everybody else can only go on about Master Palpatine this, Master Palpatine that. Except Plo. Perhaps Plo could give him a few. 
> 
> Now, who could this so-called 'Sith Emperor' be?


End file.
